Eternity
by Broadway-Hobbit
Summary: Erik has suffered. He wasted away but saved by either an angel or the devil himself. For the first time in his life, Erik wants to live, a thing he will do through death. UPDATED FINALLY!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1- You have no idea how hard it was not to kill him. That monster that had only one wish, to deflower my precious Christine and make her his trophy wife. But if I had murdered him like he so readily deserved, as all my victims do, it would have broken my beauty's heart and she would have wasted away to death. I could never do that to the only woman I had ever loved.  
  
So in her stead, I would waste away to death, or so was my plan when I dragged her love from certain death. She loved him, not me. Life just wasn't worth living any longer. I let them go.  
  
Thus I lay down in my bleak coffin and prepared for death to take me to the devil, but it was the devil himself who took me to death. I slept, ignoring the pangs of hunger or any other bodily need, twisting and turning, urging for it all to end, begging for hell, longing for her.  
  
Instead, I got him, a dashing young man with long dark hair and pale skin to rival my own, though his was not yellowed but beautiful. He came after all strength had left me and my life held on but by a string. He walked in laughing, scaring me as he lit the lights. I heard his footsteps slowly getting closer to me.  
  
"Well, well, well, is it not the infamous Phantom of the Opera? Murderous, merciless, devil who slaughters all forms of life, seeking revenge on God who cursed your life and birthed you with this hideous face. I must say it is a true honor to be in such an exquisite man's presents," he loomed over me, staring down with bright blue eyes. "But perhaps, the ever terrible Lucifer has pity, or a heart rather. It was beautiful what you did for Christine Daae and her lover Raoul. Though some begin to think you have lost you touch!"  
  
At that he began to laugh again, throwing his head back violently and pulling me out of my coffin. I did not attempt to fight back, as most would do, but rather hoped this man was out to kill me, too get this unwanted life done with.  
  
"Some might also believe you haven't a tongue, but those who have heard you sing would beg to differ. You are a sad creature. It's hard to believe you are the cause of death to so many people, the person to whom so many seek revenge upon. I look upon that grotesque mask you call a face and wonder why God blessed you with a curse. I wonder why I wish to make all of your nightmares cease," he had laid me on the ground and stooped over me.  
  
My throat was tired from lack of use recently so I whispered, "If wish to eradicate me, please do so soon. For I have an important date with the demons of the underworld and they do not like to be kept waiting."  
  
"Ah, so you are not mute! As for your very important date, I am afraid it with just have to wait. You my friend are going to my experiment. I have never made another vampire before in my mere hundred years of existence as one and would very much like to make you one," he replied.  
  
What small amount of energy I had left I transferred to my limbs and attempted to push myself, but I would not budge.  
  
"Don't waste you strength on such a futile attempt. You are now damned to walk this world for eternity, weeping those tears from that revolting visage, killing even more than you have ever dreamt. On the sunny side, your dear Christine will become a blur in the many things that you will see, the many faces you will kill," He bent even closer to me.  
  
For the first time since Christine had fled from me for the last time I felt the urge to kill. My eyes darted around my room for that cursed noose, but it must have been in my parlor where last I had placed it.  
  
"It's time, Erik. Take a last look around with your mortal eyes if you will. It's a pity you hardly went into sunlight, you'll never have the opportunity again. Say goodbye to day and hello to never ending light," he leaned back onto his knees and began chanting something in Latin.  
  
While I do speak Latin, at the time I just laid there not paying any attention, catching tidbits of the incantation here and there. At last he to a silver dagger he had had attached to his belt and cut his arm and then mine in the same place. He pressed the two wounds together and held them there for a while, I was not counting. He pulled away and immediately pain stretched over my body as if I were trapped in something ten times smaller than I.  
  
I wreathed on the floor, screaming with such a strength I never knew I had. The vampire began to laugh, showing me his ivory fangs and licking around his wound as it healed swiftly. Everything began to grow dark, and sound was like that of a tunnel. I passed out. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
When I awoke it was dark and I lift my hands into the air to be greeted by that all too familiar coffin lid. My head ached and I pushed the lid open. Even more darkness greeted me and I wondered if that strange young man had been just a dream. Then I realized I had my strength back.  
  
I gasped and drew back from the coffin, staring at my hands as if I had never seen them before, flexing the fingers. They were no longer yellow but that radiant white that the young man, or vampire had had last night on all his skin. I went to my parlor and sat down, a strange appetite raging in my stomach.  
  
Sitting in my armchair I began to think I had gone mad. I tucked my knees under my chin and glanced nervously around the cold room. Again I heard that cruel laugh.  
  
"Wonderful, Erik, you are awake. I'm starved, how about you?" the vampire had entered wearing a top hat and the finest tailored suite from Italy.  
  
"Who are you?" I asked placing my feet back to the ground and clenching the arms of my chair tightly in my fists.  
  
"My name is Peter Carton, and indeed I am English, not French as yourself. I am a vampire and your savior. Don't have such a grim look on your face, or if it pleases you, wear that mask of yours. Alas, I do have a confession to make. I am not as old as I said. I am only ten years a vampire, but a hundred just reeked of respect, don't you think?" he rambled around the room with a candle glancing at my cluttered shelves.  
  
"M. Carton, would you so kindly tell me how to stop this pain?" I asked, rising to my feet and pointing to my stomach.  
  
"Oh, you need to feed. Come, I will teach you to hunt, as if you need a teacher. But do put on your mask so you don't scare the prey away. The human race is so easy to scare," he tossed me the dreaded façade and proceeded out of my home and onto a boat he had apparently used to get across the lake.  
  
I knew what I had to do. There was no point in staying there to await a death that now would never come. At least, after I learnt the ways of vampirism, I get my revenge on Peter Carton who had damned me to an eternity of thinking of my beautiful Christine. Oh, my sweet little rose, what a monster you would think me now.  
  
"Being a vampire has its plusses along with all the woe. Such as you may kill whomever it pleases you to and you can never be harmed back. The only way in which to kill us is indeed that old myth of stabbing us through the heart with a wooden stake," he paddled through the water, his eyes ignoring my evil glare.  
  
We rushed out of the Opera house, careful not being seen by the workers or opera goers, and into the lively Paris streets. Music from a mandolin played by a street performer echoed in my ear and two lovers passed in front of us.  
  
"So, take your pick, Erik. Who do you most desire to take life from and you can do it," he whispered into my ear.  
  
I bit my tongue as I almost said I wished to kill him the most but managed to put, "Young lover," before I could.  
  
Peter swirled around, "Yes, a jealous murder to a young fop just finding love, from a ma who is cursed never to experience the most wonderful emotion in all the world."  
  
I shut my eyes for a moment and breathed in the air, full of the stench of the city. I opened them again and saw my victim. He was walking a pretty little woman home who held a bright red rose in her gloved hand. The boy walked, never taking his emerald eyes from hers and holding her hand ever so gently. Strangely he reminded me of that damned Raoul.  
  
From then on, I don't know where Peter went. My mind was bent on one thing, sucking the blood from this boy. I followed them in shadows until they reached her house. He kissed the hand and bid her goodnight. I perched in the bushes, ready to spring at him when he came back around the corner.  
  
I heard the footsteps then saw his smiling face. He was literally skipping down the road, singing a soft song of triumph to himself. I stepped out behind him and grabbed him by the throat. Immediately he attempted to scream but my iron grip slid over his mouth. He squirmed under my arms as I sunk my teeth into his tender flesh. It was so unlike anything I had ever done.  
  
From the moment the blood flooded my mouth, I knew it was going to be worth an eternity of thinking of Christine in the arms of Raoul. Flashes of color flooded my vision and my taste buds exploded in delight. It was almost as good as singing. I thought I was going to swoon from the ecstasy. Slowly, he went limp and slipped to the cobble stone road.  
  
I smiled as I wiped the blood from around the mouth of my mask. I couldn't help but think of the headlines on the newspaper. The Phantom of the Opera had returned, and this time with a twist! 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3- Desire  
  
For weeks all I did was refine the art of killing and drinking blood. Peter remarked that I was a very swift learner, but of course I had the pleasure of knowing how to kill before my vampire days.  
  
We got rid of the bodies of the victims by throwing them in the river, where they would not be found for a few days and by then they would be so rotted that no fang marks could be detected.  
  
Peter and I began to collect the newspaper clippings of the police investigations for each found body. Of course there are always those few poor souls who were never recovered and their bleached bones probably still make their home in the mud of the river.  
  
I of course kept my home in the opera house, though I never went into Her room. That held to many bitter memories for me. Often as morning dawned and I walked back to me coffin, I would just stop and stair at that door wondering what might have been if I had not let the two lovers go and had kept my rare bird caged.  
  
I often had my mind in the past, always wondering what if. What if she loved me? What if I never killed a soul? What if I was born with a beautiful face? It was this that Peter constantly worried over me.  
  
It was exactly two months after my turning into a vampire, and the date of Christine and Raoul's wedding. I only knew this thanks to the gossiping chorus girls of the opera, always eager to spread the latest news. By the time I awoke that night, I knew the deed was done and I moped around, not wanting to go out, knowing what the two lovers would surely be doing as a paced.  
  
When Peter came I could tell he had drunken already. In his tow was an intoxicated girl, innocent and frail. Her chestnut hair rolled over her shoulders and her green eyes darted excitedly around my lair. I stared at Peter for an explanation.  
  
"Oh, this is Miss Victoria Sickle, cousin to your favorite man, the Victome de Chagney, also known as Raoul. She is yours for tonight to do whatever you wish with her. She is very eager to meet you, Erik," Peter slyly said.  
  
"Mr. Erik, I have heard so much about you from Peter! You sound just like the perfect gentleman. Shall we dance?" Victoria held out her hand shakily.  
  
It was very obvious how drunk she was. Normally a little rose like this would be shy and trembling, not daring to be left alone in a room with two men she had never met before. When I didn't take her hand, she shrugged and began dancing around the room with herself, singing the notes to some waltz in the most horrific voice imaginable.  
  
"Isn't she magnificent, Erik," Peter watched her.  
  
"Peter, you know damn well that I do not play with my food. Is she really Raoul's cousin?" I asked, a grin starting to spread on my face.  
  
"Yes, she is. I found her tonight at the reception for the wedding. Magnificent ceremony I hear. Miss Daae looked well, and so did her picture perfect husband," Peter trailed off looking at me.  
  
With the thought of the wedding my grin quickly pulled into a frown and ran to Victoria. As I took her arms she squealed with delight. I could hear Peter's laughed as I swirled Victoria insanely around the floor.  
  
I suddenly stopped and massaged her tender, young throat. I could feel the air as it rushed in and out of her lungs. She smiled as I kissed it then licked it. I went to bite, and then I saw Christine's face.  
  
She stared at me, dressed in her wedding gown. She clutched my gold ring to her chest and tears ran down her milky white face. She just stood there, lip quaking in fear, in fear of me.  
  
I gasped for air and pushed Victoria away. I knew I had to see my Christine. I didn't listen to Peter as he protested and cursed at me. My mind was determined, I would see her, touch her, or I would die. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Lovers seemed to be everywhere and even with the urge to go and drink from them, I held back. My passionate desire for Christine consumed me. I found it the only thing that could stop me from my nightly feast. I knew my way to the Victome's house. I had memorized it so that I could go there blindly if need be. But I was not blind. My eyes were wide open.

The three story home stood dark and my eyes burned into the window above where I knew the newly weds would be. Christine. I was torn. I loved her. I wanted her to be happy. That is why I had let them go. But didn't I deserve a bit of happiness, damn it? Didn't I deserve to know what it was like to hold the woman I loved in my arms? That handsome, rich, arrogant boy had never done anything to earn the love of my fragile flower. My mouth opened in a silent scream of angst and agony.

Christine was utterly naïve. So trusting to the beauty of the world, never looking beyond the surface. Raul would love her for the first couple of years and then abandon her for a fresh new opera star, just as naïve. Christine would learn the bitter truth of the world. But she shouldn't have to.

My hand pulled a pin from my pocket and I began to pick the lock on the door silently. This was a trick I had picked up from Peter when I had made my first "house call", as he called them. The lock clicked and I went inside. It was perfectly silent, with the faint scent of jasmine in the air. A lengthy stair-case stood in front of me, leading to the second and third stories. I took a breath and headed up.

Their room was on the second floor. I knew this from a previous visit I had made ages ago. The door was a dark wood with bright brass fixing. I hoped the hinges had been oiled and slowly turned the handle. I let out a sigh upon seeing them both still in their bed, fast asleep.

Christine lay with Raul's arms wrapped around her naked body, hair gently behind her on the downy pillow. It was more than I could bare. I sank to the floor in a wave of silent tears. There was no denying they were beautiful together. Two fleeting youthful angels, asleep as in a painting. Everything was perfect, except for me. For the first time since I had met Christine I know longer felt love or jealousy. I felt hate.

She had caused this pain. She was blind. She did not know what it was to suffer. But she would. My hand slid over Raul's mouth, and although he awoke, my body on top of his did not allow him to move.

"Goodnight, sweet angel," I whispered in his ear right before I sucked the life from him. I kissed Christine one final time, leaving a bloody imprint on her white cheek. As silently as I had come, I was gone.

Peter was still entertaining our guest when I returned. He was now in a robe and she was down to her bloomers. Peter played the piano and they sang some happy little duet, both breaking out into hysterical laughter at odd moments. Feeling light hearted, an emotion that I had never before had, I kissed the young maiden's pink breast. She giggled in delight.

"You seem changed, my dear Erik. What ever did you do?" Peter asked, ceasing his piano playing and grinning even more brightly.

"Something I should have done ages ago, friend. But now I will finally know what it is like to be with a woman. Another thing I should have taken advantage of long ago, but felt too much," I picked Victoria from the floor and headed to my room. "We must make sure scandal is made from this!"

Such ecstasy I had never known to exist.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

The following weeks were some of the happiest in my life. Or afterlife, if you want to be picky. The story of the Victome being found by his new wife dead, upon waking up next to him, had spread across Paris. Rumors that Christine had gone a bit insane a few days later began to spring up and yet more shame would come to the Chagney family when Raul's pristine cousin, the lovely and virginal Victoria was found to be not so very virginal at all, but rather pregnant.

It was this last bit of news that interested me the very most. Reports said the young girl had ceased to speak and no matter how much her family pressed her to speak of the father of her child she would not. I knew it was out of shame. Probably deep with in her chest was the fear that her child would come out as hideous as has lover. It was as I read this article over for the sixth time that it finally sunk in that I was to be a father.

"Do you think it will be born a vampire?" I asked Peter as we made our way to the opera. He had gotten us tickets for my favorite box, five.

"No. It might have some vampiric features such as pale skin but it will not be one of us unless you make it one. If the mother had been the vampire, then the opposite would be true. It would be born a vampire with human features," Peter explained, pushing the curtain back and allowing me inside.

The opera house was packed tonight. There was heated discussion over the new lead soprano, a girl in her twenties from Greece. My mind wandered back to Christine and I saw her standing on the stage, singing in place of Carlotta, filling the audience with music so beautiful it had made me weep. And I had taught that perfection. Sculpted it into a work of art. For what? To be betrayed. To be cast away for my ghastly looks.

I smiled as I pictured her waking up on that fateful morning. She would have stretched her arms a little, her delicate frame moving beneath the sheets. Her eyes open and a grin spreads across her mouth as she reflects on the magic of the previous night. She turns and wraps her arms around Raul, kissing his back. But something seems wrong. He does not move. Rigor mortis has set in and his body is stiff and unnatural. Christine sits up and shakes him, crying out his name, tears falling from her eyes, backing away from the corpse, much like she did me.

A hearty laugh left me. How cruel I was, but revenge was sweet. Murdering people who had never done me any harm was one thing. That brought a small bit of guilt. But stabbing the souls of those who made me suffer was a joy I could never lift. Peter smiled at me and raised his finger to his mouth, telling me to hush, the opera was about to start.

The news of Christine's attempt at suicide struck fear into my heart. Not fear of her life, but fear that she would cut her suffering short while I must endure it forever. I decided that a visit to her was long overdue and donned my most attractive tails and top hat.

I found her no longer sleeping in the master chambers but one of the smaller guest rooms. She tossed and turned in her nightmares, hands chained to the bed to prevent her from doing more harm to herself. I sat on the edge of her bed and stared. I knew it would not be long.

Indeed, not only five minutes after my vigilance began did she cease to move and I knew her to be awake. Her eyes were still shut, for fear of finding what was there when she opened them, I was sure. I ran my hand across her forehead and her eyes burst open.

"Why such hate and spite, Christine?" I asked in a low whisper.

"Erik, why did you tease us so? Why didn't you kill him back in your torture chamber? Why did you wait?" her voice cracked with pain. I let the words run over me.

"I came here out of pity and worry for you, and yet you blame me with these ridiculous accusations. That isn't a very kind way to act," I said, standing up once again.

"But you killed him. I know you did. I told everyone, only they all say you are dead. But I knew. I know! Who else can kill without a trace?" she asked slyly.

"You are wrong. I used to never be able to perform the perfect murder. Something was always there to give me away, if anyone had the sense to look. There was always at least a trace and other times there were glaring clues that I left on purpose. But now, a transformation has occurred. I can kill with out a trace," I said, letting my secret out.

"Then kill me," she whispered.

I laughed softly. "I think not. Actually I came here to tell you to take better care of yourself. Suicide is not exactly healthy."

"Why do you make me suffer so?" she started to sob.

I put my face close to hers. "So that you can feel a life time of what it is like to be me while I must endure an eternity of it. Didn't you ever want to know what it felt like to never have the thing you most desired? You are a selfish girl and you must be taught a lesson."

I left her crying, knowing that sooner or later she would succeed in suicide, but knowing the pain in her currently was terrible. She knew I had killed Raul, and for some odd reason, that pleased me. The naïve little child was finally growing up.


End file.
